


Wait, undercover married?  Please tell me it's not Ford.

by florahart



Category: Spy (2015)
Genre: F/M, Undercover Married, aldo is kind of a lech, incessant use of fucking as an adjective, susan cooper is a good spy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 13:14:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13054716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/florahart/pseuds/florahart
Summary: Susan goes undercover married in Switzerland because of bank fraud.  Being Susan, she successfully finds trouble.





	Wait, undercover married?  Please tell me it's not Ford.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [disgruntled_owl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/disgruntled_owl/gifts).



> The request said no dubious consent, but also to include the kind of constant hornball that Aldo canonically is. I therefore attempted to make Susan call him out on his shit and perhaps make him a little self-aware about it while also making him keep being Aldo.

As soon as the folder arrived, Susan picked up the phone to call Nancy. "This time I get to be...Denise Castor," she said. "Castor? Like the oil. Well that's an awesome image. I still think Genevieve deNoir would be a good one, but I guess we should save that for a cooler mission. Bank fraud, bleh." She tucked the phone against her shoulder and looked through the folder some more. "Wait, undercover married? Please tell me it's not Ford. _Please_ Nancy, for the love of god, tell me I am not going to have to share a bed with Ford again."

"Again? What... Oh, right, you and Ford did some sort of terrible-idea horizontal mambo, didn't you?"

"You know we did, Nancy. I know you know, because you fucking remind me every time we see that poser and his posey clothes and ultraposing face."

"Well, if I didn't, he would anyway, so I don't see the harm. Your judgment is usually so good, Susan, you have to forgive me for my never-ending need to needle. Anyway, no, Ford is undercover as, per Rachel's best guess, a Malaysian pimp working a bingo parlor in Dubai, and that's nowhere near your destination. Your bank fraud is _in Switzerland_ , so you get to see the Alps." Nancy was falsely cheery about this; she'd told Susan repeatedly that the only good reason for mountains was to hold back terrible weather systems on the other side, so her interest in the Alps was probably feigned.

"Well, so no sharing a bed with Ford. My day is looking up. But see, in Switzerland would have been a perfect time to pull out Genevieve! My French is good enough and with a few days to brush up--"

"Yes, but alas, you've a lovely American name. Well, English, since your husband, of course."

"My husband is English? Albert the Englishman? Also, so? Who says I took his name? Eh, anyway, all right. Is Patrick ready for me? Patrick, are you ready for me? Nancy, I'm conferencing in Patrick."

"I thought perhaps," Nancy said. "As you had already addressed him, that is. Your flight is at seven-twenty a.m., dear, so car at five to get you into the queue in plenty of time, and with that I'll leave you to Patrick's tender mercies."

"Seven, wait, five _in the morning_? Oh god. I hate everyone."

"Don't think that commonality makes us friends," Patrick said. Asshole. "I've sent you an encrypted email regarding your supply options this time; we were able to provide hard drive cloning _and_ cold-weather emergency gear this time. Nothing should require additional explanation, but should you be unable to follow the manual, of course you should ask." His tone suggested otherwise, and she was pretty sure if she asked any questions next time he'd send her out with a faulty taser.

Just because he was an asshole with amazing tech didn't mean he wasn't an asshole.

Susan opened his email and cringed as usual at the materials (who made weaponized gloves that folded up into Depends undergarments? Why would she not just have regular gloves in Switzerland? She made a note to speak to Elaine about Patrick's stereotypical gender- and age-based opinions of her (again) and moved on to the age spot cream), making sure she understood each object while she had him on the phone. Then she arranged for him to load the handbag she'd carry onto the plane and leave it with Evan in the motor pool before letting him impatiently hang up, and went back to preparing to assume her cover identity.

Denise Castor, thirty-nine, married for eleven months to Albert, a dishwasher distribution supervisor for a company with offices in London, New York, and Chicago. No kids with him, but two from a former marriage to a man named Denny Dennis (really? Denny and Denise Dennis? Sweet Jesus. Although that did explain why she would definitely have changed her name, anyway), Darla and Denzel. Denny was a dentist in Downer's Grove, IL, and Darla and Denzel were staying with their dad so as not to miss any classes at Downer's Grove South High School. Denise was a dispatcher for the DGPD, just now getting around to taking the dream honeymoon they'd put off on their marriage because the kids were having trouble adjusting (Darla: drugs; Denzel: delinquency; Susan thought if these kids actually existed she'd give them a good talking to, but parenting failures aside, she was apparently devoted to them). In her spare time she darned socks for the less fortunate, danced (hip-hop urban dance classes at the local Y) and went for walks with her Dachshund, Dobby.

Susan wondered if whoever had written this cover had been playing Scattergories at the time, or just hated her. Or both; both wasn't impossible.

At least Albert was a break from the pattern. And Geneva; she was distantly surprised it wasn't in Davos just to keep it to the D theme. Also why was she undercover married _and_ looking into bank fraud? Shouldn't she be in, oh, securities or some other kind of banking? 

She read the six poorly-photocopied articles on dispatching, much of which was at least vaguely related to the work she'd done previously in the basement, followed along through several increasingly unhelpful videos on darning (why. socks cost like four dollars), looked at her license and passport photos (fuck's sake was there no way to be realistic _and_ not terrifying with these things?), examined the images of Denny and the kids, learned her current and former mailing addresses, and checked the information for the hotel and planned tourist sites, and went to bed. Four in the morning, honestly.

\--

"Ciao, bella!" It was only a whisper, into the neatly braided auburn hair at the back of her neck, but Susan knew instantly who it was. And then the penny dropped. Albert, the Englishman.

"Nancy, I am going to murder you with a carrot peeler," she muttered as she turned around in the Geneva airport. "Albert!" Aldo beamed at her. Susan sighed internally, but put on a brilliant smile. "Your flight was supposed to be later! I thought you had the meeting with Hartwell to put the new network into motion!"

"I couldn't wait to see you once more, my love." Aldo used his Downton Abbey accent and leaned in for a peck on each cheek. Susan, drew him into a hug to avoid the open-mouthed third kiss.

"There's a schedule for a reason," she whispered.

"There also sometimes are up-adates to the schedule, which a-happen while a party is in a-flight," he whispered back. He stepped back and took her hand. "Come now, let us find our valet."

She had to admit, the switch between the Albert and the Aldo accents was fluent; he even got ‘valet' right. Well, he was frustrating, but it was true he'd been helpful before. When he wasn't trying lick or grope or otherwise inappropriately touch her. "Yes, let's. My feet hurt from the pressure changes," she said, gathering her scarf and bag. 

He took both in his free hand. "This way," he said.

Nancy, in her ear, began to explain the schedule changes as they walked. The conference at which the suspected fraudulent parties were meeting had added a morning preconference session, and therefore they would need to be ready to search their rooms in just under eight hours, at 7:15 local time. 

Also, apparently they were looking for some kind of international drug tomfoolery, because evidently there was money laundering that fell under fraud. Sure. No problem. Search for incriminating materials regarding money OR drugs. 

\--

The hotel façade was large and bright, but as Susan had feared, their room was, well, small. And white. And shiny. She looked at the one small bed, the one duvet, and the one pair of chairs at a tiny table, and pressed her lips together. However, until she'd had a chance to investigate the space a bit, she wasn't about to drop character. She sat in one of the chairs, which were, at least, upholstered and spacious enough for her backside to fit, and kicked off her shoes.

Aldo, because of course he did, knelt at her feet and pecked a kiss on her knee (for crying out loud), then lifted one foot into his lap and began to rub.

All right, that wasn't terrible.

She rolled her head around, looking for cameras or listening devices, and on seeing nothing reached into her bag for the jamming device Patrick had assured her would create innocuous noises that "sounded like people at the appropriate time", and which he had designed to look like a box of Vagisil because obviously. When she set it on the table and scraped her thumbnail down the edge, a slight glow emanated from the product logo. She assumed that meant it was working. "You can stop with the foot massage," she said, pulling her ankle out of Aldo's grasp. "Sound is set up."

"Ah, but why would I a-stop?" Also asked. "Your feet, they hurt. Or was that part of your a-cover?"

"No, no, they actually hurt, but I can probably cope without you groping my calves and legs and god knows what else."

"Have I done a-something?" Aldo asked. "I want only to make-a you feel better, and also to be close to you, beautiful spy lady." He gave her instep a good dig, which, unfortunately really _did_ feel amazing. 

"Fine, fine, you can rub my feet. Which are the area below my ankles. Nancy's sending schematics in the next twenty minutes, so until then, go to town."

Aldo pursed his lips, and for a distressing moment Susan thought he was going to kiss her some more, but then he asked, "Will you not need me here in this time? To be your attentive husband and lover?"

What? Susan thought back. "Oh. Go to town is a figure of speech. Keep rubbing my feet. Don't actually leave this town and go to another one, no."

"Ah, very good." Aldo pulled the shoe off her other foot and stayed in place, rubbing.

All in all, if no groping ensued, Susan thought she could really live with daily foot rubs from Aldo. It turned out he was very good with his hands. On her feet, anyway.

\--

On the other hand, the bed situation was exactly as absurd as she expected. Aldo was an octopus in bed; handsy, clingy, and sprawling. She really did want the five hours of sleep that fit the schedule, so with a sigh, Susan turned over and faced him. "Is it absolutely necessary that you put your penis actually between my legs while we are not having sex? Because I have never found that to be a requirement for anything."

"It should be, we pretend to have sex," Aldo said. She could see the sheen of his teeth in the dark; he was smiling as he thrust in her general direction again.

"Yes, pretend. Which doesn't mean actually do it, and also as I have explained the sound is okay so this is unnecessary."

"Sound yes, but who can know if we are being a-watched?" Aldo pulled her close against his chest and spoke to her hair while squirming against her. "There is window, there is opposite building… very many things are possible."

"All right, but still, I think we can cuddle without actually fucking," Susan said, intermittently muffled by his ongoing pretense at thrusting. "I prefer my fucking to be something both parties want to do, and right now, I don't prefer."

"Ah, so I see. Perhaps we should yawn a great deal and conclude we are a-much too exhausting for tonight, even if it is honeymoon. Or, perhaps I am very quick." He arched his back and contorted his face, which her eyes had now adjusted enough to see. 

"Jesus. Not quick enough." She closed her eyes because whatever that was, and she was afraid it was supposed to be his o-face, burning it into her retinas was not among her priorities.

"Ah, you are the kind of woman who is ready immediately, who will prefer your orgasm after only a few penetrations? This is too bad, but—"

"No, for fuck's sake we are not talking about how I like to come. All I want is my nap, and if you think we have to cuddle to look right, then a cuddle. No ejaculating, no intercrural rubbing, no fingering, and absolutely no penetrating."

"Excellent. I have just achieved completion—I pretend, you see—and you are exhausted so then I wake you with cunnilingus in morning."

"A, I am not waking you with fellatio, and second, if you do I might tear your head off with my thighs. You've seen me fight, you know I could."

"And again, she promises me these wonderful things when we have no time for such distractions," Aldo said with a sigh and a hand over his heart dramatically. "However, this offer will remain."

"Okay, good to know. So, now we're going to yawn and cuddle without your hands in my panties or your tongue in my anything, and then we're going to go to sleep. Also, if we're being watched we're fucked anyway, because that's going to make a shitshow of our morning schedule, by the way."

"Ah, yes. I will consider this while you will a-sleep," he promised. And then he fake-yawned enormously and dropped his head onto her chest, leaving her to squirm her way around to put her back to him and try to get some rest. As she dropped off, she felt him moving again, put only to put an arm around her and adjust their pose into something that wouldn't leave her with a crick in each of several muscle groups, so that was a win.

\--

"I have a projector in my—"

"if it's in your pocket, that better be what I feel against my ass." Susan pulled away slightly just in case.

"No, super spy lady who is so very tired she will snore upon my arm."

"Hey, I said I was sleeping, what do you want?" She opened her eyes to find it was coming up on sunrise, with the window palely lit before her.

"I think you must a-know better than asking this, because what you will feel could be my penis, but as I was saying, I have a projector which will play for thirty minutes shadows of people moving about . We will close this curtain as though for the privacy, and our departure can perhaps remain unnoticed."

"And you didn't think closing the curtains last night could be a solution?" Susan thought about sitting up, but she didn't really want to move in the vicinity of Aldo's constant penis. 

"No, in the night time perhaps watchers would use the heat sensor, but at the daylight, now it may be they will just watch."

"Oh, so heat sensors require o-face? Okay."

"What is this o-face?"

"The face? That you make when you—" Susan mimicked his face from hours earlier.

"Ah, no. This is my alas I will not someday or at least today be fucking you, clever spy lady, face."

"Great, that's absurd but make that face again now so we're clear about today, and then I'm getting up to pee."

Aldo sighed. "You must know I only will tease, Susan Cooper."

"Denise. Castor, Alfred. Denise."

"Yes, but you have said the sound is handled, and I wish to tell you to your own name—it is your own name?"

"If it isn't, then probably I'm not going to tell you that _now_. All right so, after trying to lick me fifteen different times, now you want me to think you're all about respecting boundaries?"

"Perhaps this is a fair point. You should go pee, and I should arrange for the projector to begin when we are ready." Aldo opened his arms and pulled away from her as he lifted the blanket, and Susan shivered; it was cold in the room without his chest at her back. Not that she was going to tell him that any time before the nineteenth of never.

She got up, pulled on the plush but too-small robe the hotel provided, and went to prod at the wall control for the temperature, then headed to the toilet. 

\--

The projector was actually kind of cool. It did _not_ look like a box of Vagisil, complete with openable end and tube of cold white goo. Instead, because apparently Aldo had tech staff that weren't assholes, it looked like a fancy camera. He had the thin interior curtain drawn when she came back, and the camera set up to face the bed.

"Here is the part you will not approve, sexy spy lady: we must give it image which is like us to play."

"Oh?" 

"Yes. You will allow that I untwist your hair?" He reached for he, avoiding her eyes, and oh for the love of god he was hurt about the fact she didn't believe… okay, not her problem. Susan waited. 

"You will allow?" he repeated, his thumb just brushing her jaw. 

"Yes, yes, get to it." He stepped in closer and pulled loose the band, then ran his fingers through to undo the braid. 

"It is nice untied," he said. "Now we pretend sex—"

Susan groaned.

"But I was thinking, I will lie down, you will do as you wish." Aldo stood there before her another minute, then dropped his pajama pants to the floor and lifted his shirt over his head. Thankfully, he was wearing briefs, although Susan could tell without even looking directly that they left 100% of nothing to the imagination; they were what, in any other context, she would laugh at and call a banana hammock.

Actually, holy shit, no wonder she was always feeling his dick invading her space. 

He brought her hand up between them and then ‘helped' her push him over backward on to the bed while she remained standing.

Well, fine, in for a penny; she clambered up to straddle him, then waited while he engaged whatever it was about the camera device that needed engaging.

"I am aware, bella, that my poor penis shall remain bereft," he said, putting a hand up to cradle her cheek, "but perhaps—"

"No, I got it," she said, dropping down and humping him for a moment. "Someone goddamn better be watching."

"You would like that?"

She turned her face to glare at him. "Seriously?"

"Ah, to make this worthwhile. I see." Aldo brought his hands up to her ass, but he didn't really squeeze. Not much. They moved around for another thirty seconds in various ways, and then set the camera to project, and after a moment of calibration, believable shadows showed against the curtain, playing a randomized series of samples so it didn't look like a thirty-second loop and, helpfully, making panting and grunting sounds over the sounds of her jammer.

"Well, if it's going to do that for thirty minutes, I guess whoever's watching is going to think you have the stamina of a pig."

"A pig?"

"Because they fuck for hours? Anyway. I can get up?" She waited, and when he nodded she scooted back off him and quickly got dressed, ditching the auburn wig and putting on a blonde bob and a dark blue track suit with sunglasses. 

"Then I shall be a pig." Aldo nodded and got up after her, pulling on golf pants and a matching cap. 

"We look like the ugliest possible Americans," Susan said.

"I, of course. You, a-never," Aldo said with a grin. "Come." They left the shadow porn playing and looked carefully into the hallway, then snuck into the adjacent room.

\--

Bad intel, Susan reflected, was never just a little bit bad. No, if it was bad, it was fucking terrible, and this was no exception. Also, if she had to be tied up with Aldo again, it would have been okay if they'd been tied in any position other than this one, because now she felt bad about giving him a hard time earlier. Also, it would be great if she weren't nearly-naked and damp. She shifted her weight slightly, trying to give either of them a little room to work, but whoever the sicko was that had knocked them out and arranged them like this, they'd been a _proficient_ sicko, god damn it. Her underwear slid against his thigh, and the chair threatened to tilt if she moved any further. Under her ass, Aldo's bare thighs tensed and he tried to lean the other way to prevent tippage. Her ankles, shackled to the back legs of the chair he was sitting in and she was straddling, slid awkwardly, and with her hands tied together behind his ass, passing under his arms, she couldn't see a damn thing.

Fuckers.  
She was about to suggest they tip on purpose to see if a change of gravity would help, although ugh, landing mostly-naked on the hard floor sounded super terrible too, when the door opened.

"Who has sent you?" asked the tiny woman who came in the door. Her accent was thick, Eastern European, maybe Bulgarian, and Susan wondered whether the bug in her ear was still active. She could feel it there, which argued against the proficiency of her captors, but then, maybe they had all their badges in knot-tying and none in frisking?

"Anderson tours and vacations? In Chicago?" she said, her voice wobbling. "I know we should have stayed at the hotel they assigned, but the other one was just so pretty. Is this because we moved? Albert, I should have listened to you."

"No, my darling, you did nothing wrong," Aldo protested. His hands were behind her back and awkward, but he managed a small pinch and winked at her with the eye hidden from their questioner by her hair. Her real hair, so they'd taken off the wig, and great, that didn't seem suspicious at all.

"-us-n? S—ls SHIT b— — y— hear—e?" So, active, but disrupted. Well, that was something.

"Nancy will be so worried," Susan said, winking back and flicking her eyes toward the ear with the bug. "What time is it? When were we supposed to meet her, honey?"

"Not until two, my dear. Not until two." Aldo looked around her. "What time _is_ it, if I might inquire?"

"I will ask once more: who has sent you?"

Susan shivered as Nancy swore in her ear, but after a moment Elaine was on the line, and that was something too. Aldo scowled at the woman as a ship's horn sounded outside. "You are frightening my wife, madam, and I shall not stand for it."

His grammar as Albert was surprisingly good. 

"Su—n, is y—r que—r alo—" Elaine asked. 

Susan decided it was a query about how many people were in the room. "It must be at least one now," she said. She turned. "Could we call our friend, let her know not to wait for us? I wouldn't want her to miss the ride on the lake. All the way to the top, supposed to be so pretty."

"Are you stupid?" the woman asked. "You're tied together in the cold, alone, and you're asking if you might call a friend?"

"It was worth asking," Susan said. She looked at Aldo again, then glanced out the single window to verify the steeple she'd noticed before. Yes, they'd been moved, which did make her wonder how long they'd been out, but then, it had probably been some time to accomplish the stripping and tying. "She's been my friend since school, she and Peter and Clara and I, after my grandfather sent me away."

"Ar—y—ref—ng to - ch—d—n's …"

Aldo was looking at her funny, so she winked again, then winced when the earbugsparked in her ear canal. It hurt, and brought tears to her eyes, but Aldo leaned his forehead against hers. "I say again, madam, you are frightening my wife, needlessly."

"Probably not needless," Susan muttered, but he went on.

"If you would be so kind as to state your interests, I imagine we would be more prepared to offer suggestions?"

Susan looked to his left and raised her eyebrows. Oh hey, he had people working on it too. She hadn't realized he would have his own mike, which was kind of stupid of her. She scrunched up her fingers to give _his_ ass a squeeze, smirking when his legs tensed under her again.

The woman sniffed and whirled, going back out the door and slamming it behind her.

"Really, a children's book?" Aldo murmured.

"Really, what do your people have? Mine's burned out." 

"I can see?" Aldo jerked his chin to one side, and Susan turned her head. "That looks …painful. You will have the blister," he said, kissing her cheek gently. "I wish this would help."

"Yeah, well, me too, but we gotta get out of here. How long you think we got before she comes back?"

"Giovanna reports your Elaine and she have triangulated and your goatherd information is correct. There is one satellite… all right, it seems our interrogator has left premises?"

"Great, so let's tip this chair and see if we can wiggle loose?"

"I always will be pleased to wiggle with you, clever bound lady." Aldo shrugged. They tipped to his left and landed hard. 

"Ow. That fucking hurt." They shifted weight several times, but it was always the chair back pressing into her knee. "Ow. Shit. Ow. OW, all right, mother _fucker_ that is seriously uncomfortable."

"Ai, such language!"

"Bite me. Not actually. But bite me. Can we, okay, so if we can ditch the chair this will be a lot easier. I can't believe I'm saying this, but here, if I move, okay, bring your dick closer to me."

"My pleasure."

"You are so gross. Okay, again. We're going to keep doing this, and it does not mean we need to exchange bodily fluids. At all. At _all_."

"Your wish will be my a-command."

"Do you do that on purpose? The a- thing?"

"Only if it will perhaps make you more comfortable. I think one more thrust and we come undone?"

"I hate you. Oh god, thank you this is better." Susan's ankles were still bound to the chair legs, but they'd slid up and over the back, so now while she straddled Aldo her knees were on the floor, her ankles over his shins. "All right, what next?"

"I could die a-happy right here, beautiful smart lady."

"Look, calling me smart is nice and all, but we have urgent need to get undone."

"Oh, you will undo me, it is the truth." Still, even as he said it, he managed to pull his knees up and wide of hers, then shift around so they were still belly to belly, but he was turned to one side. "Forgive," he said, reaching between her legs and turning further, his face under her crotch, to untie one of the knots. 

From here, it was easy enough to get untied, although now that she wasn't on his lap she was freezing. Again. This mission sucked. She pulled the damaged ear bud out of her ear, smashed it with the foot of the chair, then went to the window. "Great. Three stories down, and into water. How's the door?"

Aldo checked the door and shook his head. "Lock, I am afraid."

"Then wet it is. Come here."

"You _now_ will get wet with me?"

"Are you actually just not able to stop that? Like, is it a condition you have?"

"I will agree it is, yes."

"Jesus. Okay, so see that tree? We jump, we head for there, maybe the shrubbery around it will provide some shelter both visually and for our very cold asses. Ready?"

"First we will open window?"

"Obviously. Let's do that." 

Aldo pushed the painted sash up, then held up a finger and pulled a (previously-wig-holding) bobby pin out of her hair. "Here. I leave this like we picked lock. I don't a-know how to do this one, but maybe it is helpful if they think so." He twisted the pin in the door lock, helped her up and out, then closed the window behind them. "On the three?"

"On the three."

\--

"Susan? Susan Cooper. Coop."

"Don't call me that. That dickweasel Fine called me that, and I loved it but then he was a dickweasel."

"Yes, and I remember, although I did not know to use the term dick weasel. But it has awakened you and as it is very cold, I want to see, you have not died."

"You are the most romantic person I know."

"Ah, good. Also, you smell like lake water and ear blood."

"Ear blood has a smell?"

"Is like ear wax, only with the metal."

"Great." Susan looked around. It was clearly mid-day, and they were in the shrubbery still, but somehow they were wrapped in some kind of tarp. "Where the hell—"

"I have looked from the window, and this way, there was a building which has awning."

"So you ran out of cover, and nakedly fetched an awning with your ginormous schlong."

"It was better choice than the freezing. Also my schlong did not participate-a in the fetching of the awning as it was-a too chilly to be of use. You are warmer?" 

Susan frowned and considered. Yes, she was, although also she was pretty sure she was even more naked than previously. Goddammit. Well, warm was good. And as she was probably going back to sleep because her everything was exhausted and bruised, all right, that was probably for the best.

\--

"Cooper, how, exactly, did you get kidnapped from your hotel, short out your earbug while it was still in your head, lose all your clothes and equipment, and escape with a fucked-up knee and a black eye?" Elaine's voice was sharp, but concerned.

"And a very swollen eardrum, ma'am," Susan said, holding the phone to her other ear in the room Nancy had arranged at a really, _really_ nice hotel in Zurich. "I know. But my question is, did the stuff we sent before those asshats barged in get you anything useful?"

"Astonishingly, it did. Which is the only reason I'm telling you to stay put, do nothing strenuous, and enjoy Swiss hospitality for at least three more days before you get your ass on a plane to explain to me why the hell you didn't actually die because I see no reason you should have survived this kind of intelligence fuckup, and let me tell you six heads are rolling, intermingled with the balls of their former owners on that front."

"You're the best, ma'am. Also, I just want to verify I no longer work in the kind of position where mopping up detached balls is a thing I do, right?"

"Right. I've got Ford working on it now. Go rest."

"Yes, ma'am."

Susan hung up the phone and shifted the ice pack on her knee, then looked up as the door opened. "About time."

Aldo pushed a room-service cart to the bed and sat down carefully, checking the pillows around her knee stayed in place. "I have brought soup, fruit, and pastries, which now I want to feed to you until you fall asleep."

"So you can wake me up with cunnilingus?"

"I did not expect you to allow that," Aldo said. "Therefore…" He picked up a bag from the bottom shelf of the cart. "I have come prepared."

Susan looked in the bag. "Aldo, did you show up with fruit, soup, pastries, _and a fleshlight and a vibrator_?"

"It was a pragmatic a-choice," he said. "But if you have changed your mind and will allow me to carefully keep the pressure off of your knee while I cause you to scream with pleasure until you are entirely exhausted, that-a will be acceptable, a-too."

"You're fucking ridiculous."

"Oh, no, my fucking is very serious, beautiful injured spy lady."

"Well in that case."

"Yes?"

"Let's just eat."

"For a-now."

"No, I mean, let's not have sex. With or without each other. Just eat."

"You crush me. Not in this fun way that I was hoping."

"Because if we're fucking, I want it to be without narcotics, okay?"

"Now you are just being nice."

"We'll see."


End file.
